


One Way

by aishahiwatari



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: AU, Canon Divergence, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Rough Sex, Spanking, Tarsus IV, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 23:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19239070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/pseuds/aishahiwatari
Summary: Jim Kirk gets in a bar fight and is recruited to Starfleet by a Captain who has a few things to say about his life choices.Captain Gabriel Lorca never wanted the job at the Academy, but at least he's been given the Enterprise. And the authority to recruit whoever he wants.





	One Way

Jim shouldn't even have been in the bar that night. Really, he should have seen the crowd and known they were Starfleet and avoided the place like the plague.

Instead he saw them and he knew but he went in anyway. He had never claimed to make good decisions. And those cadets looked so adorable in their red uniforms that he could hardly stand it. He wanted to be the one to get at least one of them all messy.

And- well, technically he did achieve that. Although not through the method he would have preferred. He wasn't one to admit defeat easily but the fight wasn't exactly going his way.

"Enough!"

The shout cut through the building atmosphere in the bar like a knife, every cadet stilling immediately. They knew that voice.

Jim wasn't impressed. He picked himself up off the table to see who had come to his rescue and was maybe a little intrigued, though. Not one for the damsel in distress act, usually, he wavered a little more than was necessary on his way into a chair so strong hands would wrap around his forearms to steady him.

Brusquely, his saviour checked his pupil dilation, pinched the bridge of Jim's nose and tilted his head down until it had stopped bleeding, and then bought him another beer. And he looked distinctly unimpressed by the whole situation, but he didn't appear to be either angry or upset about it. He was focused, all intense bright eyes and lithe, wiry muscle perpetually tensed and ready. Not bad, for an older guy.

God, that grey uniform was flattering, too. The Captain -yes, Jim knew his Starfleet rank insignias- didn't need it to be, but he definitely pulled it off. 

Jim wanted to pull it off. With his teeth. He was on the verge of saying so when the Captain spoke.

"You're pretty handy in a fight. 'Fleet could use some more recruits like you."

Jim hid his surprise behind a bloody-toothed smile. "Think your Admirals might disagree."

"Why do you think we don't trust them to fly ships?"

Fuck, of course he was funny. "You pick up many recruits in bar fights?"

"I pick up in all sorts of places."

"Fuck." Jim let his head fall back, instantly regretted it when his brain slammed against the inside of his skull. "Is this you trying to recruit me or just flirting? Because I gotta say, I am way more okay with one of those than the other. And I'm happy to call you Captain either way."

"Can't it be both?"

"So, what, if I fuck you I get to join up?"

The Captain laughed. "I think too many bar fights have killed some brain cells. Other way around."

"What if I don't think that's worth it?"

"Then you're not as smart as I thought you were."

It was Jim's turn to laugh. "Who _are_ you?"

"Captain Gabriel Lorca. And you are Jim Kirk."

Fuck. Well, that explained it. Jim didn't bother to keep the bitterness from his tone when he said, "Look. I've had the speech before, alright? I'm not interested in being some figurehead, some publicity stunt. If you've seen my file you've seen my record. I'm sure it'd look great for you, getting me on the books, giving me a reason to leave my delinquency behind, but what my dad did is really no indication of my fitness to serve."

Lorca was frowning at him, confused. "Does your dad want to join Starfleet?"

"My dad is dead."

"Then I don't give a shit what he did."

Weirdly, that made Jim start a little, because his traitorous heart objected to that, too. His dad was a hero, and people should care what he did. Damnit, he couldn't win either way, but he was getting what he wanted, wasn't he? Someone who saw him for him rather than his last name.

"So what is it you do want?"

"I want you." Lorca rolled his eyes at Jim's suggestive leer but didn't bother to correct him. "I want the young man who at ten years old accessed a government database and did what a hundred Starfleet officers couldn't. You found a photograph of the man responsible for the slaughter of four thousand people-"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jim insisted, too loud, too hard and too broken. His voice wasn't his own. That had been a long time ago and it wasn't in any of his records, how could anyone possible know he had even been there? He'd erased all files, covered his tracks, done exactly what those bureaucrats on Tarsus IV had forgotten to do and eliminated all trace of his presence on that fucking planet. He had to have missed something. That was the only possible explanation. He felt sick, took a sip of his beer, managed to meet piercing eyes with his jaw set.

"You got that picture into the hands of Starfleet officers tasked with the arrest of a perpetrator of genocide. Into my hands. So I could kill him."

"You killed Kodos?" Jim was too stunned not to ask. His heart was pounding, acknowledgement of the fear he'd been suppressing for years, that they'd made a mistake, that it had all been a hoax, that the same thing could happen again and Jim would be just as powerless to stop it.

"I attempted arrest. He resisted."

"And Starfleet let you stay?"

Lorca's smile was wry, his brow arched. "I was a Lieutenant Commander, then. They did more than let me stay. They're giving me the Enterprise."

Well, what the fuck was Jim supposed to say to any of that? The whole thing was insane, and it dredged up far more of Jim's past than he wanted to think about, ever again. Would this vicious, darkly funny Captain hold it against him? He seemed like he understood, but Jim knew better than to trust that sort of feeling.

Even if he did feel like he had moved a step close to putting some of his nightmares to rest. He had never been able to believe Kodos was really gone, before. There had never been any Starfleet records that said either way what had happened to him. In fact- "Can you prove it? What you did?"

"I have a copy of the footage from my bodycam that day. In my office. At the Academy."

Shit, Jim had walked right into that trap and they both knew it. Still, he hadn't lost everything. "That the same desk you're gonna fuck me on, the day I get issued my uniform?"

They stared at one another, a deep and visceral understanding passing between them and if it was built on mutual sexual attraction and pride, well, that was enough for them. 

"Shuttle leaves tomorrow at nine." Lorca said, stood, downed what was left of his beer and gave Jim a last, lingering once-over before striding out.

Jim leaned back in his chair, stared at the table, and thought.

-

He rode his motorcycle up to the shuttle bay that next morning, close enough to the departure time that he wouldn't be stuck making conversation with cadets for any longer than was entirely necessary. He'd planned to leave the bike, went as far as throwing the keys in the direction of a baffled member of the ground crew who had complimented it in passing only to have Lorca snatch them out of the air. Jim hadn't even seen him approaching.

"Load it." Lorca gestured to that same member of the ground crew, waiting for a nod before he tossed them the keys and then turned to Jim. "Officer training takes four years. You'll do it in three."

Then he shoved Jim onto the shuttle, setting a hand on his head to bring him down beneath the bar he might have walked into otherwise, barking orders at the ground crew before slamming his hand onto the door controls that shut them on board.

"Worried I'll escape?" Jim asked, sparing a wink for Uhura when he spotted her. She rolled her eyes. 

"Where the fuck would you go? I've got your bike. Grab a seat, take-off's in five." Lorca clapped Jim on the back, which did wonders for Jim's hangover headache and he suspected Lorca knew it. He felt kind of sick, was determined not to let on as he sank into a seat and settled in for the ride.

-

Induction was long-winded, poorly organised and incredibly boring. Jim couldn't resist smirking to himself, just a little, as he was issued his uniform, and he had plenty of time after being handed a padd to make his way into the Academy records and find out where Lorca's office was. He gave himself a virtual tour as he sprawled in a seat in a lecture theatre, awaiting some sort of input on alien relations.

Everybody avoided the seats to either side of him, and he was right at the back so nobody could see his screen or distract him from his task as he mapped the layout in his mind, considering other offices, security features, access terminals.

His housing allocation pinged up as he did; he'd been allotted a double dorm, but the field where his roommate should have been listed was left blank. He wondered whether it was another display of poor organisation or if Lorca had given his input. He knew what Jim had been through, where he had been, so he had to know Jim would have trouble sleeping around strangers.

Or maybe that was giving him too much credit.

He kind of listened to that input, pretended to take notes but switched a few things around in his schedule during the lecture on electrical equipment safety. He couldn't really be expected to handle all those early mornings, could he?

That one backfired slightly when he got an email saying his meetings with his academic advisor would be scheduled in the Monday morning slot he'd cleared. Goddamnit. So much for making the most of his weekend.

He didn't even know what the last seminar was on, barely listened, instead hacking the tutors' accounts for their subject notes and doing his best to learn what he kind of already knew, just in the right way. No sense in wasting time.

-

It was really far too easy to get into Lorca's office undetected. A little tampering with the one security feed he couldn't avoid entirely by taking a circuitous route and a security code written on the underside of the security desk got him there without even leaving him breathless. It was after six, so the building was basically empty, most people out helping students move into their rooms and handling all the issues that came along with that.

Lorca didn't seem like the type for grunt work. In fact, Jim was surprised not to find him in his office doing something vaguely resembling work. He didn't seem to have set off any alarms, though, so he took the opportunity to poke around.

There wasn't anything too exciting in plain view, and he knew if he so much as touched the computer, something would alert Lorca. The desk was big and heavy and antique, though, so he worked his way into a few of the drawers. He found a bottle of brandy he stole a tiny sip from, groaning a little at the sweet heat of it on his tongue before he set it back where he'd found it.

"Make yourself useful and pour a glass while you're there."

Jim's heart nearly burst out of his chest at the sound of Lorca's voice. He hadn't heard anything, not the door, not footsteps approaching. He thought for a moment that the voice had issued from a speaker or a screen, but when he knelt up to peer over the desk, he saw Lorca lounging in the armchair that stood against the side wall.

"Okay, that's impressive," Jim said, and Lorca smirked, with a pointed glance in the direction of the bottle.

So Jim rolled his eyes, poured a decent glug into a bowl-shaped glass and brought it with him as he climbed onto Lorca's lap. He was welcomed, Lorca shifting to accommodate him, settling his hands on Jim's side, just below his waist. He made no attempt to hide it, either, watching quite openly when Jim took a sip of the brandy, letting it roll around on his tongue before he swallowed and then leaned in for a kiss.

He had been a little concerned that Lorca would put up some token resistance, unwilling to become involved with a cadet so intimately, so quickly.

He'd had nothing to worry about. In fact, if anything, he was the one catching up. Lorca kissed like he'd been waiting for it, and not at all patiently. He licked and sucked the taste from Jim's mouth, set his teeth to Jim's bottom lip even though he hadn't been anywhere near medical since his fight, the skin there reddened, hot and swollen.

Jim whimpered with what should have been pain, and Lorca's laugh was low and rumbling but he lathed the spot he had bitten with his tongue, covered it with smaller, softer kisses until Jim groaned his desire for more.

It was unusual for Jim to be so close to anybody while he was so sober. It made everything sharper, and it made him restless and dissatisfied with their progress. When he began to fumble with the fastenings of that gorgeous grey instructor's uniform with one hand, the other still curled carefully around the glass of what he was beginning to truly realise was very expensive brandy, Lorca took hold of his wrist and squeezed so hard the bones ground together. Jim's next breath left him in a shuddering moan and Lorca yanked on his wrist to drag him closer, kissing him hard.

It anchored Jim, literally and figuratively, left no room in his mind for anything except for the two of them in that one moment, what they were doing and about to do. It allowed him to relax, to pull back just long enough to take a small sip and then guide Lorca's chin up with the edge of the glass so he could share it with him without spilling it everywhere. It only mostly worked, but since he then got to lick droplets from Lorca's exposed throat, he wasn't really in a position to complain.

Lorca was, though. "You waste any of that, I swear I'll put you over my knee."

He had to know, didn't he? That Jim would pull back, look him in the eye and then tip was what left in the glass onto the floor.

Jim was fast, and wily, and he fought dirty. Lorca was worse, had him face down on his lap and prone and really fucking hard before he even realised what was happening. Somewhere along the line, he dropped the glass.

"How did you-"

_"Relax, Cadet."_

And that made Jim feel like his spine was melting, far more than it had any right to. He hadn't realised, hadn't planned, but the hands squeezing covetously at his ass were warm and sure, and he had asked for it, hadn't he? He wanted it.

"Yes, Captain."

One of Lorca's hands spread over the small of Jim's back and pressed down, making him whimper. He wasn't even sure why; the touch was barely sexual, aside from the context, but it sent warm ripples up his spine, urged him to go limp, not to resist. It was an unfamiliar impulse, one Jim wasn't sure he trusted.

"I think ten will suffice today," Lorca mused, still tracing fingers over Jim's rear. His uniform didn't offer much resistance but he still wanted it out of the way, wanted to feel that touch on his bare skin. "I think you wanted my attention and now you've got it, you'll behave, won't you?"

He was still teasing. Jim wanted to object, knew that fighting would only make things worse in the long run. "Fuck you."

Lorca sighed, long and low, and then hit him so hard the breath was forced from his lungs in a blissful, broken gasp. The pain didn't register right away, more the jolt and shock of contact before the burning, electric feeling set in.

"Oh my God, you asshole," Jim panted, and he squirmed, because it was so good but it shouldn't be, he should be moving away, telling Lorca to stop.

"For every word you say -that isn't genuinely telling me to stop- I'll add another to your count."

Jim whimpered, but it was freeing, almost, to know what was expected. He had to be silent, that was all. It was clear. Some part of him sank into it. He nodded.

"Breathe," Lorca reminded him, and hit him again. And again. And fuck it was impossible to say silent, but little whimpers and moans, however embarrassing, appeared not to violate the rule. It didn't even occur to him, the first few times, how little it actually hurt, that the rush of endorphins and surge in adrenaline was down to a confused sort of aroused humiliation.

He hadn't even realised he was into that, was so hard and breathless he couldn't even say it, couldn't earn another punishment that he really, really wanted. And all the while, that hand at the base of his spine stayed steady, holding him down and still and stopping him from falling. It was a bizarre moment during which to feel safe, but by the time that tenth blow fell -it was ten, wasn't it? Jim hadn't miscounted?- he was relaxed and trusting, grounded by the spreading warmth of his ass.

"Good boy," Lorca muttered, trailing his fingers so pleasantly over that warmth and the whole thing shouldn't have made Jim shiver, it shouldn't. "Be grateful that's carpet so I won't make you lick it up. Now come on, sit up."

For all his words, he was shockingly patient when Jim found his limbs far less willing to respond to his commands than he had anticipated. Maybe he should have been willing to eat a little more in the cafeteria, rather than just grabbing fruit and a granola bar and running.

If Lorca noticed, he didn't let on, just brought Jim in for a kiss with a possessive hand around his throat -Jim's cock pressed painfully against the fly of his cadet reds and there was something desperately wrong with him, wasn't there- until Jim could think of nothing but the slide of their tongues and the taut, strong body against his, the light pressure that made his breathing feel restricted.

Lorca locked an arm around his waist, too, hauled him close enough that Jim was kind of kneeling up, having to lean down to avoid breaking their kiss. He wouldn't have dreamed of complaining, though, or moving when that arm around his waist released so Lorca could just pop the top button of Jim's pants.

"Oh, God yes," Jim panted, pushing forwards in search of more contact only to be held back by that hand at his throat.

"Oh, God, yes, what?"

Jim's answering laugh was breathless and disbelieving. "Oh God, yes, Captain. Please touch me, sir."

"You're a fast learner, Cadet." And Lorca slid a strong, warm hand into Jim's pants, beneath his briefs to press against his straining erection. "I'm sure you'll be a credit to the Academy."

"I'll do anything, sir." Jim pushed into the hold, encouraging more, rolled his hips in an attempt to gain more friction and whimpered when he couldn't find it, Lorca's grip remaining torturously loose.

"Anything? Even if I want you to come in this uniform from nothing but my hand on you?"

Fuck, that was cruel. Jim was so hard but he wasn't close, so desperate to come but being denied all assistance. And yet he had said, hadn't he? He'd do anything. "Tell me to, Captain, and I will."

"Oh, I'm going to have so much fun with you." Lorca smirked, and God he was gorgeous, all that power so close to the surface, eyes bright and observant, not missing an instant of Jim's willingness. Jim felt exposed, even fully clothed, rolled his hips and pleaded with his eyes as Lorca pressed just a little harder, squeezing Jim's cock between his hand and Jim's stomach without showing any sign of realising that he had just committed to more happening between them, to its being more than a one-time thing.

Jim couldn't wait.

First, though, Lorca had more to say. "Put your arms around my neck and fuck my hand until you come. I want to see your eyes, Cadet."

Jim whined, because it was everything he wanted but could never have dared to ask for, that gaze piercing into his soul as he held on and ground down. He was panting much too soon for it to be explained by the exertion, tears gathering in his eyes because it was so intense, all of it, and through it all Lorca just watched him. He looked vaguely satisfied, gave nothing else away and never flinched when Jim rolled his hips, embarrassing though it should have been.

If he had just wanted to embarrass Jim, he wouldn't have done it like that, wouldn't have made himself just as vulnerable in their little game, risking his position, his reputation. And that was sort of like trust, wasn't it? Knowing someone else had more to lose than you did.

Jim started slowly, but as pleasure crackled up and down his spine and those eyes didn't leave his for an instant, he found confidence and strength and chased his pleasure, something-like-trusting Lorca to know his own. Occasionally he rewarded Jim with a tighter squeeze around his cock or his throat, or maybe that was a warning, Jim didn't care, wanted more, faster and harder.

It was slow-building and his thighs burned with effort, that lingering warmth of the skin of his ass reminding him of what he had put himself through that night already. Because it had all been a choice, every acquiescence his own, every suggestion readily accepted. He knew what he wanted but as it turned out he'd had no idea how to get it. And suddenly there was this strong, vivid stranger who wanted him, who wanted whatever they fuck they were doing and had given him an opportunity because he knew more about Jim than anybody else.

He had been chosen for something he had done before he had even realised he was competing for a place. He'd been surviving, not trying to impress anyone. He'd been himself.

And in that moment, he was himself, too. Flushed cheeks and uncoordinated grinding and glazed eyes, mouth open, his cock hard and leaking, only perseverance and commitment and Lorca's sharp eyes on him keeping him going long enough for the hot, hurting friction to turn slicker, easier.

Never truly easy, though. He was being tested, and he would not fail. He would be good, and he would come, and it would feel so much better than anything he could do himself, anything he could even have known to ask for, or to tell someone to do.

His mind wouldn't clear, and he couldn't get the focus he needed. It had been a long day.

"Need a little more, Cadet?"

"Don't need anything, sir," Jim gritted out, leaned into bite gently(ish) at Lorca's bottom lip. "But I'd be grateful. Show you how much." He let his gaze tick down to the bulge in dark grey pants and licked his lips, tasted salt.

"Oh, you'll do that either way." Lorca bit him back, not nearly as gently, and Jim groaned gratefully at the spark that kept his hips moving, made his cock pulse out another bead of pre-come. His legs were beginning to tremble, he was so close, driven by the pain, the promise of that cock sliding past his lips, pushing into his throat. He wanted that.

Lorca clenched a fist in his hair, pulled his head back, sank his teeth into the corded muscle of Jim's neck, sucked hard and held him as he let out a long, low moan and came, shaking, into Lorca's cupped hand, the twitching and rolling of his hips smearing the mess everywhere, under his briefs, beneath his shirt.

"Asshole," he panted, breathless, heart pounding, because apparently it hadn't been enough for him to be in his uniform, he had to come inside it, too. He'd be sticky and messy and smelling of sex the whole way back to his room, come under his clothes and, if the promises were to be believed, down his throat, too.

And he hadn't even had to leave the Academy grounds.

"Better watch your mouth, Cadet." But Lorca was smiling and he captured Jim's mouth in a slow, languid kiss, not seeming to mind that Jim was still lax and uncoordinated. It was wet, and hot, and messy, and Jim loved it, felt satisfied and good, had a change to get his breath back before meeting darkened, knowing eyes and sinking to his knees.

He wasn't selfish, and it was no chore, either, to run his hands down muscular thighs as he settled between them, to see solid control falter a little in the quickening of Lorca's breath at the sight of him. Jim smiled. He knew what he looked like, glanced up for permission before -finally- being allowed to unbutton grey pants and ease Lorca's thick, hard cock from its confines. It was hot and heavy in his hands, curving upwards, making his mouth water, not as wet as his tended to get.

If he hadn't been so sure of Lorca's arousal, kept so carefully in check so far -for his benefit? Surely not- then he might have felt a moment of doubt. Instead, he licked, hotly, up the underside, smelling soap and clean sweat and musk, tasting just that until he reached the head and was rewarded. He took a bitter, pearly droplet on his tongue, savoured the taste with a soft moan.

Lorca gave his hair a warning tug. "Don't ham it up. You're not a cheap porn star."

Jim just met his eyes, held long enough for another bead to form, so slowly, and then did it again. Lorca rolled his eyes, and Jim pressed a tonguing kiss to his glans before speaking. "You taste good, Captain. I like it."

"Well that's -ah- fortunate." Lorca attempted to snark, stalled somewhat by Jim sucking on the head of his cock, swirling his tongue, getting it wet and ready to take deeper. He managed to hide his smile, with his mouth full, but knew it showed in his eyes as he looked up. His eyelashes fluttered when gentle hands threaded fingers in his hair, snapped wide again when they began to push.

It would have been easy to resist, but he didn't want to. He loved the feeling of a hard cock sliding past his lips, pressing down on his tongue, squeezing into his throat to cut off his air, leaving him feeling light-headed. All of it. And he liked to direct it, to have that power and control over someone, to provide them with pleasure on his terms.

As it turned out, he liked it better when somebody showed him what they wanted, and then took it. Lorca wasn't rough with him, eased in slowly and gave him time to breathe before going deep, guided him rather than holding him in place but there was still no doubt Jim was being fucked. It felt hopelessly, helplessly good, to be held at the edge of his boundaries, to have his throat filled until that first instant of doubt but no further. If he could have got hard again, he would, but instead he just floated on the wave of pleasure, no push towards the end. He savoured it, determined to remember later.

His eyes watered, vision blurred, tears dripping down his cheeks. Lorca released his hair to thumb at them, wiping them away or smearing them across his skin like another claim, a mark of what they'd been doing.

"You'll swallow."

Of course he would. What else was there. Jim made the smallest noise of agreement only to find his mouth suddenly cold, empty. It hadn't been enough. His voice was quiet and hoarse when he said, "Yes, Captain."

"Good boy. Breathe."

Jim did, felt a little of the fog lift from around him, blinked away the sting in his eyes and opened his mouth. The answering weight on his tongue was his reward, his moan cut off by the slick slide into his throat and he pushed forward to take it deeper. He needed more, needed to feel it, whimpered as Lorca withdrew to let him inhale and then pressed back in, shifting in tiny incremental thrusts until with a low groan he came down Jim's throat.

That time he held it a little too long, and Jim wavered a little, spots in his vision by the time he pulled out. Things were a little vague, but he was gathered into strong arms, hauled up and held close, didn't have the mental clarity just yet to fight it. Didn't want to.

"You did good, Jim, you were perfect."

Jim mumbled something into Lorca's chest that was supposed to be along the lines of, "Don't patronise me."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Just credit where it's due. And you, beautiful boy, take my cock like you were born to do it."

It was- surprisingly sweet. Jim had been complimented on his technique before, of course, but it had never felt quite so personal before. He let himself press into the warmth of Lorca's body for another few moments. Just a few.

Maybe the most surprising thing was that Lorca let him. In his chair, in his office, he held Jim against him until his heart rate returned to something resembling normal, his fingers idly caressing the skin of his hip where his uniform had ridden up.

Jim was the one who disengaged, getting a little unsteadily to his feet. With his uniform refastened and Lorca's fly already done up, the only sign they'd been doing anything untoward was the state of his hair.

Or so he thought. Lorca stretched out long legs and stood, too, crossed to his desk with a rueful eye roll for the glass and spilled brandy on the carpet, retrieved a regen from one of the drawers. Jim felt the urge to flinch away from him for the first time that night, gave himself away when he let his eyes tick to the door.

"Your throat is a mess. You're not going out there looking like a high-schooler who just discovered necking."

"What does that make you, in that disturbing image?" Jim managed to retort, still somewhat hoarse, throat aching in the best way. When he moved, dried come pulled at the sparse hair on his stomach, stinging a little. He made it over to the desk without bolting, breathing coming a little fast despite his best efforts.

"Want me to do your face too?" Lorca pretended not to notice any of that, until his words made Jim smirk with the urge to point out that he just had. "High-schooler."

"Still think that says more about you than it does about me."

Jim quite liked Lorca's thinly veiled irritation. It meant he accepted Jim for who he was and yet hadn't asked him to leave. He watched as Lorca worked, programming the device with ease and setting it to Jim's throat, a telltale tugging feeling revealing just how much damage there had been, from bites and more.

"You're good with that," he said, running fingers over the fresh, unmarred skin and lifting his chin when Lorca took that as permission to fix the split in his brow, the swelling of his lip. Jim ran his tongue over it experimentally, saw Lorca's eyes darken so he bit, too, scraping over the healed skin as he let it slip from between his teeth. It earned him a kiss he responded to eagerly, but it was over too soon.

"You should get back," Lorca told him, with enough reluctance that Jim could stifle the feelings of rejection that threatened to surface.

"Yeah. Thanks for your help, Captain. I appreciate your advice," he said, straightening Lorca's uniform unnecessarily, the body beneath it warm and strong. At risk of getting too attached, Jim stepped back. Then he did it again. And then he walked out, with a quick check of a security panel to see whether anybody was wandering past.

He didn't look back to see if Lorca watched him go.


End file.
